


Wholloween

by DiscipleOfBrad



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27300163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscipleOfBrad/pseuds/DiscipleOfBrad
Summary: The Twelfth Doctor turns up at Clara's apartment, unsure as to how to deal with little trick or treaters. Chaos ensues
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Wholloween

**Author's Note:**

> A brand new story to celebrate Halloween! Enjoy! And don't forget I have a longer story being updated every week - Collision Course involves 12 and Clara, along with 13 and the Fam, so go check out that too!

The view from her apartment balcony was one of a pitch black sky, the city landscape illuminated by the dazzling street lights and the glowing moon hanging above them. There was a slight chill as Clara Oswald stood there, taking it in. She very rarely did this, wasting moments to just contemplate. Her life was so full of running and monsters that there was rarely any time to do that. But there would be none of that tonight; the Doctor only came on Wednesdays which left her with an unusual amount of time to spend alone. She told herself that it was good to have this separation, to try and keep her two lives apart as best she could. But she wasn’t half bored - even teaching had been slowly losing its charm as the half term break had crept so agonisingly closer. Were these withdrawal symptoms from being away from him for too long? But that would mean she was  _ addicted _ to the wonders he showed her and to  _ him. _ And that definitely wasn’t the case. No chance. That was completely out of the question. 

As she stepped back into the warmth of her living room, Clara glanced around at all the Halloween decorations lining the wall. Maybe she had gone ever so slightly over the top this year. There were numerous pumpkins placed around her small home, all with different and increasingly intricate patterns on them, making the corners they were hiding in light up in a soft orange hue. There were a couple of ghosts on the wall, of the friendly kind. She had run into too many  _ real _ ghosts already so there was no point in scaring herself even more. Well, not real per se but as close as one could get to the actual thing. There were even some fake cobwebs, complete with spiders (Clara thought back to the time they’d been on the moon and strange arachnids had attacked them. Had she really experienced all of the Halloween cliches whilst being in the Tardis?). One would be entitled to say that she had distracted herself from her loneliness by decorating to an extreme level. Clara would say that, because she was a teacher, she always had to make an effort, especially with potential young trick-or-treaters knocking on her door. 

She settled down on her sofa, putting those thoughts to the back of her head. She hadn’t always been a fan of Halloween; Christmas had always been her favourite. For years, cocoa, ugly jumpers, and presents had trumped sweets, frights, and horror films. But something had changed due to her travels with the Doctor. Something had been opened up within her, she guessed, which was rather troubling when she thought about it. Really, she should have been put off by monsters after interacting with the worst ones in the universe but, after defeating them all, maybe they just weren’t as scary to her as they once had been. The Doctor would be proud and likely fairly concerned. So what if she was becoming just like the Doctor? There were worse things to be. She regretted not dressing up like him now just to mess with his head. She would have sent him a photo and his head would have exploded. The image in her mind made her chuckle to herself. 

The television had a cheesy horror flick on, that she was only paying half attention to. The night was upon them now, which meant people would no doubt be visiting soon. Yet, so far, the only thing that had scared her was the feeling she had that she wanted the Doctor to be there with her. Clara couldn’t explain it in a way that was reassuring. Who was she kidding? He would hate all this! The Doctor had made clear his derision at the movie ‘Alien’ so he would probably combust when he saw the celebrations. It was for the best that he wasn’t here. Just imagine if he had to deal with kids knocking on the door every few seconds. The prospect sent an icy chill down her spine, her body shivering. No, she would have to be content with spending the night on her own, a bowl of sweets within reach. It was nice to have some peace. And then she could call the Doctor tomorrow and ask if he wanted to pop by. That was a good plan.

The peace was shattered within seconds of her making that decision. Her plan went down the drain as she stood up, the colour draining from her face at the noise. That sound was unmistakable; she had heard it hundreds of times now. But why was he here? Just after she had told herself the worst thing possible was for him to pop up! The noise came from her bedroom, which was already an annoying point. He always liked to park there, like he knew it would rile her up. Did he actually like doing that? It wouldn’t surprise her. She hurriedly rushed over to the room in question, opening the door just as the Doctor stepped out from the Tardis, not realising that she was there. What was her course of action? Get him away before any children arrived, that was key. And Clara didn't want him to see the decorations - it would just lead to some awkward and embarrassing questions that she couldn’t be bothered dealing with. However, despite herself, she began to smirk as the grey-haired stick insect she adored ambled in, eyes roaming the room as if he had never seen it before. She made sure to control her expression into a stern glare, hoping it would be enough to make him turn around and fly off.

“Doctor!” she yelled, her arms folded across her chest. “What are you doing here?”

The Time Lord spun around at the sound of her voice, giving her a questioning look. “Why wouldn’t I be here? Am I suddenly banned? Did I do a thing to annoy you again?”

“No, not yet,” she growled through gritted teeth. “It’s just...not our day. It’s not Wednesday.”

The Doctor waved his hands dismissively, as well as rolling his eyes. “I travel through time, Clara.  _ Days _ as you know them have no meaning to me. You wouldn’t understand.” He was looking rather sheepish though.

Clara was blocking the door, eyebrows raised as she stared at him. “You thought it was a Wednesday, didn't you? But you landed the Tardis at the wrong time. Again.”

He hesitated, looking at the floor for a second before dragging his gaze back up to look at her. “That’s beside the point. The real question is why you don’t want me to get out from here.” The Doctor had a triumphant look on his face as her eyes widened.

She fumbled for an excuse. “No reason.” Clara hated how high pitched her voice went when she lied to him. It used to be so easy so what had changed? It was infuriating. “I’m..just...standing here...naturally...like I always do.” She was stretched out across the door frame, trying to pose like a normal human being but failing miserably. 

For some reason, the Doctor didn't question her. Instead he moved around the room, inspecting things. He flicked through a book that was sitting on her bedside table (she was ashamed to see that it was a corny romcom that she knew he wouldn’t approve of), before sniffing the pillows lying on her bed. That was strange, even for him. Then he moved over to a set of drawers by her dressing table, eyeing her carefully. What made her fearful was the mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

“I’m no expert on human behaviour or how humans store things, but I’m fairly certain that this cabinet contains the majority of your underwear. Now, most humans don’t like other people seeing such stuff, I know that much.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she bit out.

He raised one bushy eyebrow in challenge. He opened the drawer a smidge, not enough to be able to look inside. “Try me, Oswald.” He smiled in triumphant glee when she moved from her defensive position, slamming the drawer closed and vowing to put a padlock on it to avoid a scenario like this ever again. She didn't have time to contemplate the small part of her brain that had  _ wanted _ him to see it (that would need at least a week to psycho-analyse) as the Doctor made use of the advantage he’d created to slip away and run into the main part of her apartment. He went straight into a cobweb, wiping it from his face in disgust. He looked down at the mess in his hands. “Clara, you really need to get on top of your cleaning in here,” he said in passing, not looking back to see her flushed face and nervous demeanour. “Even I clean the Tardis semi-regularly.” The Doctor ignored the Tardis letting out a loud noise in response, which was clearly challenging that claim. 

He settled down on the sofa, flicking through the tv magazine with little interest. It was then that he spotted a pumpkin staring right at him. And another. He stood up in shock, coming face to face with one of the ghosts. He already had his sonic out ready to attack (he didn't know how the sonic would help with that but it was always better to be prepared) when he noticed the spider web bunting and spooky lights that were dangling from the ceiling. “Clara,” he whispered quietly, holding out a hand to try and reach her. “I don’t want to alarm you but I think someone has broken into your flat and done something  _ very _ strange.”

Clara bit her lip, knowing she was going to have to bite the bullet. “No, Doctor. Um...this was all me. It’s decorations...for Halloween. You have heard of Halloween, right?”

He was looking at her peculiarly. “Of course I have. I just never knew that you were such a...fan. You never said anything. Is this what you didn't want me to see?”

“Well, it’s embarrassing! And I didn't want you to think I’m some sort of weirdo.”

“Clara Oswald...I’ve always known that you were a weirdo. But that’s a part of your charm. There’s nothing wrong with having some peculiarity.”

“That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she pointed out, allowing a small smile to appear on her face. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as disastrous as she’d first thought after all. She was faintly aware of some knocking coming from her front door but she was too focused on him actually  _ complimenting _ her that she didn't acknowledge why that was happening. “It might be possible that I overreacted.”

“Oh, I would say you do that quite a lot but I’ll keep that sentiment to myself.” The knocking started again and the Doctor looked at the door angrily, wondering who could be so rude and impatient. He stomped over towards the offending noise, leaving Clara where she was as she gradually worked out what he’d said, growing angrier as she did so. But her fury dissipated in a second when she saw what he was about to do. She shouted out to stop him but she knew it was too late. She watched in horror as he swung the door open.

He was expecting to see someone near to his height but had to look down, his eyes landing on a small figure. They were dressed up as a vampire, holding a pumpkin bucket. They’d taken a fearful step backwards when he’d opened the door.

“What?” he barked loudly, poking his head out of the door to see if there were any more of these tiny monsters. 

“Trick or treat!” the young child sang (he couldn’t tell what their gender was but was that really important nowadays?).

“Wrong!” the Doctor said in fascination, confusing both the visitor and Clara, who was agitatedly standing behind him as she looked over his shoulder. “Vampires aren’t actually real and, if they were, they certainly wouldn’t look like that.” He gestured to the pale face, the slicked back black hair, and the dark cape with a tall collar. “Trust me, I’ve had a few run-ins with creatures that resemble them. If your costume is actually that of a giant fish-like creature from Venice, then I’ll have to give you kudos. What would have been more accurate is if you’d dressed up as an old woman with a bendy straw. Let me tell you, that was one hell of an experience.” He smiled at the child, whose face was even more ashen than the paint suggested.

Clara shoved past the Doctor frantically, grabbing the bowl of sweets she’d left by the door. “I’m so sorry about him. He’s not feeling...well.” She ignored his insulted look. “Please, take more than one. As an apology.” The trick-or-treater tentatively put their hand in the bowl before running off, cape billowing wildly. “Happy Halloween!” Clara shouted as they disappeared around the corner before she slammed the door closed, glaring at the old man in front of her.

“What?” he asked innocently. 

“You scared that kid half to death!”

“I did nothing of the sort. All I did was give them a brief and necessary lesson on the intricacies of blood-loving creatures. If you’re going to dress up, you may as well do it accurately.”

Clara tried to shove him away from the door but, as soon as they neared the living room again, another loud knock came at the door, this one even more insistent than the first. Despite her having a tight grip on his arm, the Doctor managed to slip away, using the skills he’d learnt after the numerous times he’d been a prisoner or captive. This time, when he opened the door with gusto, a pair of tiny witches looked up at him, complete with large floppy hats, brooms, and exaggerated green noses.

The Doctor stared at them in horror. “I think you’ve both come down with some disgusting disease. Look at you. You basically scream ‘I’ve got an alien parasite living inside me!’ Just look at your complexions.”

“We’re...witches,” one of them bravely spoke up. “It’s face paint.”

“Oh, well you should have said that, shouldn’t you? I was in half a mind to take you to the Tardis medbay to see what was wrong with you. But...witches? Really? Witches aren’t green and they certainly don’t wear hats like that. They do fly, I have to give you that. Did you know that they have a particular interest in the works of Shakespeare? Come back after you’ve read a few sonnets.”

He made to shut the door on them but Clara intervened, stopping it with her food before chucking a few sweets into their bags and sending them on their way. The Doctor looked nonplussed at the cause of her reaction, increasingly so when she shot him a dark look. “You can’t be mad at me this time. I was  _ teaching _ them, giving them some education, broadening their horizons. You’re supposed to be a teacher and encourage stuff like that.”

Clara put a hand on her forehead, letting it slide over her eyes. She could feel a migraine coming on. She needed sleep. Or a large drink. “Just...go sit down. I can tell there’ll be no getting rid of you when you’re in this sort of mood and I’m too tired to be going to some distant planet that’s made out of...eggs. I’ll go put the kettle on and we’ll watch a film. Just, whatever you do...if anyone else comes to the door, ignore it.” With a final sigh, Clara spun on her heels and headed for the kitchen.

“You don’t want to get rid of me anyway!” he shouted in response but she either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him. The Doctor began grumbling to himself. “And a planet made out of eggs? Don’t be ridiculous. You’d literally be walking on eggshells.” He did as he was told though, sitting on the small sofa, his legs dangling over the edge as he lay down. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a sustained amount of time in Clara’s apartment - it was probably at Easter but Clara had ordered him to never mention that again after he’d diligently bought her a new microwave after that...mishap. 

As he was getting comfy, his ears pricked up. Another knock at the door. Now...he had a choice. He could either listen to Clara’s clear instruction and be obedient for once...or go completely against her wishes and risk annoying her even more. But, with the kettle loudly whistling away, she hadn’t heard the noise, meaning, if he saw himself as an upstanding citizen of the universe, then it was his civic duty to answer the door. It made sense in his head. He practically tiptoed over, before eventually being greeted by another small pudding brain, this time one who had wrapped themselves fully in toilet roll.  _ Just wait till 2020 _ , he thought,  _ you won’t be wasting such rare commodities like that then _ .

“Oh, would you look at that,” he enthused. “A mummy! I’ve battled a few in the past. One quite recently in fact. If you’re actually a soldier from an ancient war who is being kept alive and sustained by a faulty piece of alien technology...then now is the time to mention that.” He looked expectantly at the other person, who struggled to form an appropriate response.

“Trick or...treat?”

“Oh yes! This is where I give you something, right?” The Doctor, evidently forgetting that the bowl of sweets was just by his side (the child was looking at it hopefully with eager eyes), started to rummage around in his jacket, hoping to find something suitable. He pulled out his trusty yo-yo, but quickly put it away as he wasn’t ready to part with it just yet. The sonic? No, far too valuable and quite dangerous in the wrong hands. He contemplated giving them a bag of jelly babies but the idea of giving strangers sweets on Halloween just didn't make sense to him. Finally, his hand came across something that fit the bill perfectly. He unveiled a stick of celery that he must have kept for at least five centuries (it was looking in good condition for such an age - it must have got it from him) and handed it to the kid, patting them on the back as he shoved them away. “Don’t let it go to waste!”

The Doctor was back on the sofa as Clara returned, eyeing him suspiciously as she placed two steaming mugs down on the table. “Have you been there the whole time?”

“It’s not as if I could have gone anywhere,” he moaned. “You’ve got me locked up here like I’m in prison.”

She hit him lightly on the shoulder as she sat down next to him, closer than they normally would. She blamed the cold for her doing that but, even in her own head, it was a pretty poor excuse. “It’s not that bad. Unless you think spending time with me is a punishment.”

“There’s a correct answer to this, isn’t there?”

Clara stopped herself from slapping him, deciding to let him off this one time. They settled into a semblance of comfort, Clara surprised that the Doctor allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. They’d never done this before and it was a side to their relationship that she hoped they’d continue exploring. She had noticed that he’d become more accepting of intimacy and she wasn’t about to complain about that. The Doctor noticed that she had a content smile on her face as she rested on him but didn't comment on it, not wanting to do anything that would make it disappear.

Their peace was short lived when a strange sound echoed from the door. It wasn’t a knock, that was for certain. They gave each other a wary look and slowly wandered over, Clara forgetting about the Doctor’s ban. The smell was the first thing that hit them when they opened the door before they saw the egg dripping slowly off it. Clara’s mouth was wide as she spotted a few children running away. The Doctor had a furious look on his face.

“What? Why would they do this?” she wondered.

“Do you want me to call in Strax? I’m sure he’d like to hunt down the little scamps.” The Doctor gave Clara an innocent look when she stared at him in surprise. “I wouldn’t give him an actual gun, for goodness sake. Maybe a paintball gun.”

She bent down, noticing something on the floor that almost blew away in the gentle breeze. “Wait, there’s a note.” It just made her even more confused. “ _ That’s for the celery _ . Celery? What do they mean? I never gave them…” Clara slowly turned on the Doctor. “What did you do?”

“In my defence, celery is an extremely versatile food source that basically has negative calories. Any kid would love to have some. I certainly did.”

“You’re going to clean this up. I want it spotless by the time you’re done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied dutifully, looking sadder than she had anticipated.

Clara decided to take pity on him, not wanting him to think like he’d made a massive mistake. Why did he have to look so cute? “Oh, come in and sit down. You can clean it tomorrow.” He was by the sofa faster than she could keep up, thankful to get out of his punishment for the time being. Clara simply smiled at his antics, picking up the sweet bowl and bringing it over. “I don’t think we’ll be getting any more trick-or-treaters tonight. I should thank you for that really. Maybe you do have your uses.”

“It’s good that you’re finally realising that.”

Clara reached into the bowl and pulled out a couple of her favourites, ruffling his hair to his annoyance. “Happy Halloween, Doctor.”

He picked out a few of his own, snatching one from her hand whilst he was at it. “Happy Halloween, Clara Oswald.”


End file.
